To Be With You: A Fringe Christmas
by My Beautiful Ending
Summary: Based on the song To Be with You by Sarah Groves. Set in the future. The whole Fringe Family gets together to celebrate Christmas. A melancholy, cute, fluffy, Christmasy one shot. Please read and review! :  totally P/O, plus other pairings... ;


**To Be With You: A _Fringe_ Christmas**

_We come in from our travels,  
Lay our gifts beneath the tree,_

The little girl stares at the brightly wrapped packages under the Christmas tree, sparkling with its colored lights. Her blond hair falls over her nose, and she pushes it back, wondering which boxes and bags have her name on them. Dusk is falling on Christmas Eve.

_My mother's in the kitchen,  
The parade is on TV._

Her hazel eyes follow the yummy smells emanating from the kitchen where her mother frowns at the oven timer. "Can I help, Mommy?" she asks, knowing her mother didn't cook if she could help it.  
Her mother grins ruefully at her, her wide smile showing her teeth. "No, baby, I've got it," she says. The doorbell chimes. "You can tell your dad and Grandpa to stop fooling around and answer the doorbell," her mother says. The little girl smiles back, a mirror image of her mother, except for her eyes. Her eyes are her daddy's.

_My father's with his father,  
They're setting out some toys,  
The kids all want the train he's had  
Since he was a boy._

She can hear them tinkering with the train tracks. "No, that doesn't go there!" her grandfather objects. "The wiring's all wrong." She can imagine the look on her father's face –longsuffering and amused.

"Daddy!" she calls.

"I'm coming!" he answers. He had heard. "Walter," he tells her Grandpa, "We can fiddle with that stuff later. It's nearly time for supper."

"But trains are very delicate stuff, Peter!" her grandpa objects. "This train is very old; I had it when I was a boy. Your mother objected to me setting it up when we were married but soon she warmed up to it…" he trails off as her father opens up the front door. "Hello Asteroid!" He greets her mom's friend.

The little girl giggles. Her grandpa is funny.

_To be with you,  
To be with you,  
I love this time of year,  
It always brings me here,  
To be with you._

"Welcome, welcome! Come on in, Rachel. Ella, Matty is in the living room," her father says.

"Thanks, Uncle Peter!" Ella says.

The little girl stands up excitedly. Her older cousin Ella is so much fun.

"Hey Matty!" Ella says, giving her a hug. She laughs and hugs back, as a grown up hug fest continues in the kitchen. The doorbell rings again, bringing in more guests and family. She loves this time of year, when everyone is together and everyone is happy.  
_I fall in with my sisters,  
Just like when we were young,_

She, Grandpa, and Ella are playing with the train as her mother, Aunt Rachel, and Aunt Astrid set the table. Her father is talking with Uncle Phillip and her Grandma. Christmas music trickles out of the radio on the counter. She whispers to her cousin, and they make a giggling excursion to sneak a bite from the dessert tray.

"Matty Alice Bishop!" her mother yells.

"Oh, Liv, it's Christmas Eve," her Aunt Rachel objects.

"If you keep sneaking bites from the dessert tray, you won't get any dessert later," her mother threatens. And she knows her mother meant business.

"Olivia," her Grandma says to distract her, "Where is that tiny grandchild of mine?"

_My grandma holds the baby,  
She rocks and softly hums._

Her mother fetches her little tiny baby brother from his room where he was taking a nap. "He's going through a spit up faze, so you'd better have this, Nina." Her mother hands her grandma a cloth and her baby brother. Her very red hair frames her face as she smiles down at the tiny bundle. "Don't you look just like your father, Liam Joshua," Grandma coos as she rocks him back and forth in the pretty rocking chair that used to be hers when she was little.

_We gather round the table,  
We close our eyes and sing,  
"Praise God from whom all blessings flow,"_

"Time to eat, everybody!" her mother calls, clapping her hands.

"Olivia, you cooked all this?" her Aunt Rachel asks incredulously.

"She did indeed," her dad says, hugging her mom from behind.

"See, I am getting better," she says.

"Thank goodness," Aunt Astrid says, and everyone laughs.

She positions herself by her cousin and her Grandpa, watching as everyone circles around, friends and family together on this cold, snowy night. If she cranes her neck just right, she can see out the big bay window at the cold snow flying around in the dark night. The candles cast a pretty glow over all the yummy food on the table, and if she closes her eyes, she can smell the fresh pine smell of the Christmas tree over the food smells. The radio, which no one has shut off, croons melancholy Christmas carols that make her feel happy and sad and wonderful, all at the same time.  
"Why don't you say grace, Phillip?" her grandma suggests, and her Uncle Phillip smiles, a rare thing on his dark, solemn face. She clasps her hands and places them in her lap, bowing her head for the prayer.

_To be with you,  
To be with you,  
I love this time of year,  
It always brings me here,  
To be with you._

Her father carves the turkey, though her Grandpa objects multiple times that _he_ is the one with the best anatomical expertise, operating experience, and general knowledge, thank you. Her mother tells him he can do the ham tomorrow. Tomorrow is Christmas! She squirms in her seat, hardly believing it. What a long time it is until then! She eats all the delicious turkey, dressing, mashed potatoes, and fruits and salads and other unidentifiable things that she doesn't particularly care for but her mother puts on her plate anyhow. She knows if she doesn't eat it all, no cake will come her way.

_Praise God from whom all blessings flow._

Her mother puts her brother down to eat after dinner. The grown-ups are all gathered around the television, watching old Christmas movies in black and white. Ella is texting someone on her phone, and she is curled up in her father's lap, listening to his heartbeat and smelling the smell that is just him. She feels safe here, and feels a unique sense of belonging, rightness to it all. She snuggles closer and whispers, "I love you daddy."

"Love you too, Matty," he murmurs, and kisses her hair. She sighs and grows sleepy.  
_We set out milk and cookies,  
The kids are quick to bed,_

"Time for bed, sweetie," her mother says, stroking her hair. She yawns like a cat, and her father carries her to bed and tucks her in. "You've got to go to sleep right away," he instructs her, "or Santa won't come."

She nods seriously. "Did you put out the milk and cookies for Santa?"

Her mother pokes her head in the door. "Yep. It's all done. Now go to sleep, and Santa will be here before you know it. Love you."

"Love you," she replies."

Her lights go out and the close her door quietly, but not before she hears her father say, "Really, I think 'Santa' would prefer a cold beer."

"_Peter,_" her mother says, exasperated but laughing.

_They know Saint Nick is coming,  
And nothing need be said._

She closes her eyes tight, and then opens them. Her clock hasn't changed. She squeezes them closed again, trying to wish herself asleep. The swish, swish of someone walking through cold snow passes by her window. The snow had stopped a few hours before. Excitedly, she hops up and goes to the window, pushing it open like her mother hand showed her how in case there was a fire. A man in a suit and hat stood outside her house. "Are you Santa?" she asks, a bit doubtfully. He didn't look like the pictures. And he wasn't fat. He shakes his head no silently. She can see he has no hair. "Oh," she says, a bit disappointed. "Merry Christmas!" she says later, because even though he's not Santa she hopes he has a nice Christmas. He sort of blinks at her, like he's not sure what to make of it. Then he says "Merry Christmas" back, and walks away.

_We gather by the fire,  
Reminiscing by its light,  
The kids'll be up early,  
But it's hard to say goodnight_

She curls up in the space her child so recently vacated by her husband. He winds his fingers through her hair and she smiles at him. "Have I told you recently that I love you?" he mumbles.

"Just now," she says softly.

"Well, I'll say it again. I love you, 'Livia." She smiles and he kisses her.

"It's getting near midnight," she whispers. "Everyone else has turned in. Think we should?"

He thinks about it, watching the fire crackle in the hearth. "Let's stay up for a little bit longer. I mean, who can say they were the first ones awake on Christmas day?"

She smiles at him, snuggling closer into his side. "You know something?" she asks.

"What?"

"I'm glad."

" 'Bout what?"

"About everything. All of it. The pain and trials and misery of those first few years, the panic about the world…" she trails off. "If that didn't happen, who knows if this would have happened?" She knew he understood –them, the children, their large extended friend/family group.

"You've got a point," he tells her. "You've almost always got a point."

"Do I?" She asks. "I thought it was just me being sentimental."

"No… even under stress, you make a point and it's true." He looks at her with total honesty in his eyes. "I do belong with you."

She smiles, and his mouth caresses hers for a long, long time.

_To be with you,  
To be with you,  
I love this time of year,  
It always brings me here,  
To be with you,  
To be with you,  
I love this time of year,  
It always brings me here,  
To be with you._

_**Merry Christmas :)**  
_


End file.
